Christmas wishes
by louella
Summary: Festive fluff for Harry and Dempsey. What will happen at the Christmas party?


**Christmas wishes**

Dempsey looked over at his partner, whose nose had taken on a cute pinkish glow. "You think he's ever coming out?"

"Doesn't look very likely now, does it? I reckon they've turned in for the evening. Snuggling under a nice warm blanket in a nice warm bed." Harry gave a small shiver and pulled her coat tighter around her.

"Lucky him." The lights on the ground floor of the house they were watching had been turned off ten minutes ago. A single light still burned in one of the upstairs rooms.

Harry said, "Perhaps we'll get lucky and all the criminals in our patch will decide to go straight as a new year's resolution."

"Maybe. Would put us out of a job though."

Harry rubbed her arms with her hands. "Right about now, that doesn't feel like much of a loss. And if you didn't have this job, you could maybe get home for Christmas, see your family." She sent him a quick look from the corner of her eye.

"Nah. We don't do much celebrating at Christmas as a family." Dempsey's gaze was fixed firmly on the house and its single glowing light.

"Really? That surprises me. I'd pictured your Christmases at home as being one long party filled with family and friends." Although now Harry thought about it she realised Dempsey had never really talked much about his life back in New York.

Dempsey sighed and ran his hand over his mouth. "Not really. Christmases could be pretty bad when I was a kid. Dad would take the money mom saved for the turkey and spend it on Jim Beam. She'd shout and he'd drink and there was nowhere to go to get away from it." He shrugged. "Then when I was older I'd try to hang out with friends, but they'd have their own families to go to on the big day. Didn't need a random hanger-on. So, you know…" He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and shook his head.

Harry looked at him thoughtfully. "Christmas is pretty low-key in the Makepeace household, too," she told him. He raised his eyebrows at her. "It's been difficult since mum died. She died not long before Christmas, you see, so the season coincides with the anniversary of her death. It doesn't really put one in the festive mood."

"I can see that." Dempsey turned his body towards her but she was staring at the house.

"Before she died, Christmas was very different. Very traditional, you know, turkey and trimmings, Christmas pudding, the Queen on the TV. Lots of presents, of course. And we would play games." Harry's eyes lost focus for a moment. "I used to want to play charades."

"Charades?"

"You don't know it? It's quite simple, you get a card with a word on it and you have to mime the word to the others. Could be a book or a film or whatever. They had to guess before the time ran out."

"Sounds like a riot," Dempsey said drily. Harry punched him gently on the arm.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud. It was fun! It came in the most beautiful box with the cards and the timer. It's gone now, sadly. You can't really play it with just two."

Dempsey looked closely at his partner, who was now examining her fingernails in the glow of the streetlight. He opened his mouth to speak when his attention was caught by something in the house. "Looks like our guy's called it a night," he said, as the light in the upstairs room switched off. He rested a finger on her cheek. "You're freezing. I'll drop you back and you can warm yourself up before you hit the sack."

Harry gave a small smile and a nod and Dempsey put the car in gear. She would warm herself up with a shower and a hot water bottle. She didn't let herself think about how Dempsey might choose to warm up his own bed later.

/

The next day, Makepeace found herself sat at her desk, writing up the report of the fruitless surveillance. Picking away at the keyboard, she cursed when a string of tinsel landed on the ribbon and got stuck in the keys. She managed to unravel it but not without tearing the report, which she then had to start typing again. Her mood was not improved when Fry and Watson bounded into the room, chatting loudly to each other. "I'm going to stag it," said Watson. "Keep my options open."

"Couldn't find anyone to bring, more likely!" said Fry, grinning, as he looked around the squad room. "Hey, Dempsey! You coming tomorrow night?"

Dempsey looked up from his file. "The party?" He glanced quickly across at his partner but she was bent over the typewriter and not paying any attention. "I guess so." To be honest, Dempsey hadn't given it much thought, but if everyone else was going he'd probably tag along. Maybe the Chief would stand them all a round.

"Hey," Fry shouted over at Dempsey. "I heard Karen from Records said she'd be going."

"Karen from Records, eh?" Dempsey tipped his head from side to side. "The one with the great pair of… eyes? I guess I could steer her under the mistletoe." The guys laughed along, but Dempsey looked again at Makepeace and she didn't seem to have found it funny.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as she finally finished the report. She pulled it from the typewriter and took it over to the filing cabinet, then took her time finding the right place to stash it. Slowly she closed the drawer and went back to her desk. She knew she was being foolish but she did not want to think about Dempsey and Karen-from-Records under the mistletoe. Last night she'd thought they'd moved forward but here they were again, as if it meant nothing to him. She picked up her bag and her coat, said a general goodbye without catching anyone's eye and left for the evening.

/

Dempsey had to admit, as parties went, this was a good one. The beer was flowing as fast as the stories and he felt the happy glow of knowing he was part of the team. He finished his pint and walked over to the bar, elbowing himself to the front so he could join Chas.

As he got there, he found himself checking his watch again and scanning the room. Chas turned to him and said, "She isn't here."

"Who isn't?"

Chas just raised his eyebrows. Dempsey said, "She never said she was coming. I just assumed." He stared down at his empty pint glass.

Chas didn't want to have this conversation. But still, it was Christmas. "Mate," he said. "Why don't you just tell her?"

Dempsey shuffled his feet for a moment. "I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you don't. That's why you're such a useless detective." There was a pause, then Chas said gently, "You're both miserable like this."

"She aint miserable."

"Just tell her."

"Listen, Chas. As soon as I tell her, that's it. She says no, it's over. At least at the moment there's a chance."

"Even though it's making you miserable."

"Better than the alternative." Dempsey put his empty pint glass down on the bar and walked away. He passed Karen from Records as he went through the door but he didn't notice.

/

Dempsey had been driving in circles for the last fifteen minutes, trying to decide if he should do what he was thinking of doing. Finally reaching a decision, he pulled up outside the elegant building and rang the bell.

Harry answered the door. She was wearing a pair of cotton pyjamas with a loose-fitting sweatshirt over the top. Her face was clear of make-up. It took a moment for Dempsey to catch his breath.

"What are you doing here? Karen from Records not willing to oblige?"

"You didn't come."

"Evidently."

Dempsey took a deep breath. "I missed you."

After a moment, Harry said, "You'd better come in."

She led them through to the kitchen and waved at one of the stools, which he took. She stood in front of him, leaning against the worktop. "Why are you here, Dempsey? Party not good enough for you?"

"The party was great, actually. Only one thing missing."

"Really."

Dempsey looked at Harry. She was staring at the worktop. "Really. Why didn't you come?"

"I, er, didn't fancy it, all right?

"You couldn't bear another evening with me, is that it?"

"No that's not it! You're putting words into my mouth."

"Well someone's got to do it cause you aint telling me anything yourself!"

"I don't have to tell you anything!" She pulled herself upright away from the worktop and walked across to the sink, standing with her back to Dempsey. He stood up from the stool and went to stand behind her. He touched her elbow, gently.

"I got you something."

Harry turned around, surprised a little by how close he stood. "What do you mean?"

"A gift. For you."

"Oh." Harry glanced away. "You didn't have to do that. I haven't had chance to get anything for you, I'm afraid.."

"Don't worry about it," said Dempsey. "I just wanted you to have this." For the first time, Harry noticed that he was carrying a bag from one of the stores on Oxford Street. He reached in and took out a badly wrapped present, handing it to her.

"I, er. Well, thank you." Harry took the gift and looked up at Dempsey. "Should I open it now?"

Dempsey almost said no, wait for Christmas, but instead he nodded and said, "Yeah."

Harry's fingers found the tape and slid off the paper. She turned over the box and saw that it was a game of charades. "Oh," she said, blinking. "Thank you."

"I thought maybe the three of us could play it. You, me and your dad. What do you think?"

"I think that would be lovely." She put the game on the worktop.

"Hey." Dempsey put a finger under her chin and tilted up her head. "You're crying. This was supposed to make you happy."

"I am happy," Harry insisted, flicking away at the corners of her eyes. "It's just…"

"Just what?" Dempsey leaned closer, wanting to take the tears away, worried that he'd caused them.

"It's just that this is the most thoughtful gift that anyone's given me in years. And it came from you!" She jabbed him in the chest and he caught her hand.

"Hey," he said, "why shouldn't it come from me? I'm a thoughtful kind of guy." He hadn't let go of her hand and was rubbing her palm with his thumb.

He was expecting a putdown. Wanted one, in fact, as it would signal that they were back on their old track, that nothing irreversible had happened. But it didn't come. Instead, she said slowly, "Yes, I think you are."

"Harry," he said, his voice a low growl as the warmth from her hand in his spread through his body. Her eyes were wide, her pupils huge. His gaze travelled across her face to her lips, parted invitingly, her breathing as quick as his.

He didn't move. Harry gave a small smile and turned her head a little, sent a quick glance upwards over her shoulder. Dempsey followed her gaze. He saw that in the window over the sink, above where they stood, she'd hung a sprig of mistletoe. "Harry," he said again, almost a groan as he pulled her closer to him, his arms around her waist.

Harry wrapped her arms around his neck and angled her head to his. "Happy Christmas, Dempsey," she said, then brushed her lips to his. His last thought before he gave himself up to the sensation was yes, this could really be a very happy Christmas indeed.

-ends-


End file.
